


Transience

by theorchardofbones



Series: Eidolon [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Haunted Castle, M/M, Paranormal Romance, halloween party, noct trying so hard to be a wingman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-02 17:22:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21165329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorchardofbones/pseuds/theorchardofbones
Summary: Four years since his last visit to the castle, and Prompto has no idea what's in store for him.





	Transience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aequoria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aequoria/gifts).

> A commission for the wonderful Bish. I'm sorry I took so long writing this, my love — I hope it was worth the wait.
> 
> **Written for FFXV Halloween Week Day 1 — Monster of the Day: Ghosts.**

_ A cool hand smoothes down the inside of Prompto’s thigh; when he giggles, he can hear the answering smile in Ardyn’s voice. _

_ ‘Did I startle you?’ _

_ Prompto shakes his head and stretches out on the bed. He can’t see Ardyn, but he can see the depression in the sheets where he lies. When he budges over a little, he feels the solid weight of Ardyn’s thigh against his own. _

_ ‘Just takes a little getting used to.’ _

_ The air shimmers in that strange way. When Prompto blinks and opens his eyes again, Ardyn is sprawled out beside him, his robes hanging open to show the thicket of hair on his chest. _

_ ‘If it’s easier for you,’ Ardyn says, ‘I can do this.’ _

_ When Prompto feels that cool touch again, he looks down. He can see Ardyn’s arm — the weather-worn skin, and the faint dusting of auburn hair across it — but as if by some trick of the light, it fades as Prompto follows it down, vanishing where the hand should be. He can  _ feel _ it, though: the teasing patterns Ardyn traces up Prompto’s skin. _

_ Prompto shivers deliciously, and that only sets Ardyn’s lips curling with a smirk. _

_ ‘Is that good, my love? I can give you more, if you’d like…’ _

* * *

Prompto wakes with a thrill of pleasure; it’s only as he rolls over, feeling across the bed for his lover’s hand, that he realises he was dreaming.

It’s so vivid sometimes that it feels realer than real — he can still feel the pressure of Ardyn’s hands at his hips, the weight of his body atop him, and even as the shroud of the dream fades he can’t quite convince himself that the world he’s waking to  _ is _ the real one.

He sighs and buries his face in the other pillow, as though he might somehow smell Ardyn’s scent on it, even though Caelum Castle — and Ardyn — is thousands of miles away.

It won’t be long, he tells himself. Four years since his last summer there, and he just has to wait a little longer.

* * *

‘You know you don’t have to stay in here, right? We’ve got the run of the place.’

Noct seems to survey the room uncertainly where Prompto’s already begun to set up his things. At the time of Prompto’s first stay at the castle, this was one of the few rooms ready to stay in — and even though it’s more luxurious than any hotel room Prompto has ever slept in, he knows that there are chambers at the castle that make it look like a broom closet by comparison.

He’s happy here, though; it seems fitting, ten years later, to be in the room where he and Ardyn first met.

‘Nah, I’m good. Can’t beat that view!’

Noct doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he gives a shrug where he leans against the doorway.

‘So, movies and pizza. You sure that’s how you wanna ring in the big three-oh?’

Prompto suppresses a shudder as he remembers how  _ Noct’s _ thirtieth birthday went. He’d lost count of how many guests there’d been at the New York bash, and apart from exchanging a few polite words with some of their old school- and college-mates, Prompto had spent most of the night squirreled away by himself in a corner.

He can’t deny that Iris did a pretty great job of it, though — maybe it hadn’t been  _ his _ kind of party, but he couldn’t help being impressed.

‘Are you kidding?’ he says. ‘That’s  _ exactly _ how I wanna ring it in, Argentum-style.’

He almost misses the exasperated roll of Noct’s eyes.

There was a time when they weren’t so different — when Noct would’ve sooner stayed home with a stockpile of snacks and video games than hit the town for a night out. Steadily, though college brought him out of his shell; Prompto could only look on.

‘All right,’ Noct says. ‘You’re coming to the Halloween party, though, right? Iris’s been planning for  _ months.’ _

_ Oh right. That. _

Prompto drags his lips into an enthusiastic smile.

‘Of course! Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

* * *

At best, the movies get maybe half of his attention. He would’ve thought it impossible to miss the action on a big projector image covering half the wall in Noct’s living room, but somehow his mind just keeps wandering upstairs, to his bedroom.

It’ll be hours before Ardyn shows up —  _ if _ he shows up — but Prompto can already feel the prickle across his skin, the cool shift in the air that signals he’s not alone any more.

They talked about it, the last time Prompto came to visit: what would happen if he couldn’t come back again. He promised that he’d wait until they could be together again, but Ardyn had hushed him with a knowing smile.

‘I’ll not have you caged like a bird,’ Ardyn had said. ‘Go out.  _ Live. _ If we shouldn’t meet again in this life, I’ll await you in the next.’

His words might have been cryptic, but Prompto had fallen asleep that night with a little less of a burden on his chest. They’d find each other again, no matter what. He’d been sure of it.

Prompto wonders, as he burrows under a blanket on his armchair, if Ardyn knows he’s here. If he’s waiting just as impatiently for their reunion; if he feels that same  _ ache _ of longing.

He guesses he’ll know soon enough.

* * *

Even if he’d planned on sleeping, it would’ve been impossible. He’s too giddy, checking the clock what  _ feels _ like every hour, only to see barely a half hour has passed. If he could move time by the sheer force of his willpower, Ardyn would already be in his arms.

He whiles away the time with Netflix, and ebooks, and when even  _ that _ isn’t enough to keep his mind busy he wanders the halls of the castle.

On the outside, nothing much has changed — but the interior tells a different story. Noct has changed almost everything short of knocking down walls, decking out rooms with modern colour palettes and minimalist furniture, and so many gadgets and electronics that he could start his own expo. Then there are the rooms that have been refurbished, but kept to their original decor; in this ones, it’s like stepping back in time, to an era before cell phones and WiFi, before electric showers and cable TV.

Prompto’s pretty cosy in his one-bed loft back home, but still he loves it here. He loves being able to traipse through darkened hallways and imagine what it must have been like in the days when the place was newly-built, bustling with servants and lords and ladies. It’s not the first time he’s wondered about Ardyn’s time, and what kind of a life he must have made for himself.

Around one-thirty, Prompto starts to flag. Blame the travelling, or the excitement — either way, he finds his feet carrying him back to his room before long. He tells himself he’ll just rest his eyes for a while, maybe play something on Netflix for background noise.

He’s barely under the covers before sleep drags him, irresistibly, into its embrace.

* * *

Soft fingertips stroke through his hair; a gentle kiss brushes his cheek. He’s so sure he’s dreaming that he doesn’t even want to stir, doesn’t want to risk waking up and losing this fleeting moment of contentment.

‘Wake up, darling.’

His heart jolts; it takes everything in him not to jump out of bed. When his eyes fly open and he looks around, there’s no one there and his stomach drops— 

Until he hears a soft, fond chuckle by his ear.

The weight of a hand comes to rest on his chest; another cups his cheek. Happiness thrums through him, and it feels so much like he’s finally  _ home _ that his heart could break.

He finds Ardyn’s hand on his chest and threads their fingers together, giving a happy sigh.

‘I feel like I’m still dreaming,’ he murmurs sleepily. ‘I wanna see you.’

The air ripples in the dawn light, and a moment later Ardyn’s there, lying beside him. His hair glints in the soft light, the auburn waves turned to molten caramel.

Waking up in Ardyn’s arms is something he could happily get used to.

‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ Prompto whines. ‘I was waiting for you.’

‘You looked so peaceful sleeping.’

It seems like a flimsy excuse — Prompto has happily lost sleep night after night just to get to steal a few hours with Ardyn — but he accepts it with a sigh.

He’s curled up against Ardyn’s chest when it hits him, and he wonders why he hadn’t realised sooner.

‘Wait. It’s morning, you’re—’

When he sits up, Ardyn’s watching him with a warm smile. A hand brushes the mop of hair out of Prompto’s eyes, and a moment later a soft thumb brushes his lip.

‘I can’t stay long,’ Ardyn says. ‘But… at this time of year, the veil between the worlds grows thinner. I can stay a fraction longer each day, until…’

Prompto chews his lip.

‘Until things go back to the way they were.’

But Ardyn laughs, and cups Prompto’s cheeks between his hands — and for a moment he forgets himself and tries to kiss Prompto on the forehead.

‘Take heart, my love,’ he says. ‘We’ve plenty of time ahead.’

Prompto’s pulse quickens at the thought of it: all the nights — and maybe even  _ days _ — that they’ll get to spend together.

‘I want to kiss you,’ he announces suddenly. ‘Can I?’

Another laugh from Ardyn; his eyes crinkle as he smiles, before vanishing with the rest of him.

Prompto reaches up, and even if he doesn’t have sight to help him he has Ardyn guiding him, and he finds Ardyn’s lips soon enough with his own.

He wishes he’d brushed his teeth — but then, he’s not even sure if Ardyn can tell that he hasn’t, and before he can worry too much about it Ardyn’s steady, sure hands put all such worries  _ far _ from his mind.

* * *

Time moves so differently here. At times, it seems all Prompto does is beg for the sun to set so he can make his excuses and rush off to his room — and then when he’s in Ardyn’s arms, the hours pass like minutes and before he knows it the sun has risen again and Ardyn’s slipping too soon from his bed.

In some ways, it’s torture to get to spend so many nights together. Prompto would give anything to have it, of course; but he knows that eventually it’ll have to end.

He wonders if it weighs on Ardyn, too. He seems distracted sometimes, his thoughts elsewhere — and even though Prompto has little difficulty in dragging him back to the moment with heated kisses, he can’t help but worry he’s doing something wrong.

He tries asking, of course, but Ardyn has a sneaky habit of changing the subject without Prompto even realising it. One moment Prompto’s awkwardly trying to bring it up, and the next they’re tumbling into bed again, all such worries forgotten.

It’s the day before Halloween when Prompto resolves himself to find out, once and for all. He spends hours planning out what he’ll say, word for word, and even when Noct and Iris drag him out to have a few drinks at a local pub, he’s still thinking about it over a glass of some fragrant, honey-coloured beer.

‘You okay, dude?’

He’s been so lost in his thoughts that he’d kind of forgotten he was with anyone else; blinking himself out of his daydream, he looks up at Noct with a broad smile.

‘Sure! I’m great, man. Why d’you ask?’

Across the table from him, Iris shifts awkwardly. When he looks to Noct he sees a similarly uncomfortable expression on Noct’s face; he guesses what they say about couples starting to look like each other with time must have a little truth to it.

‘I’m gonna go to the bathroom,’ Iris says, with a little too much forced cheer in her voice. ‘Bee-are-bee!’

Prompto watches, bemused, as she hurries away from the table. She’s petite, but even so she has to squeeze through the crush of patrons just to get to the restroom.

‘Did she just…’

Noct sighs.

‘Yeah, she just spelled it out. You… you get used to it.’

Prompto feels a smile curl his lips, but he’s pretty sure it’s not a very convincing one. They’d been fine up until a few moments ago — what’s with all the sudden awkwardness?

The two of them nurse their drinks — Noct has a healthy serving of liquor and coke, but he’s barely touched it.

Yeah. This is definitely uncomfortable.

‘So, uh. You seem, uh. You seem like you’ve settled in here.’

Noct shrugs. He’s looking down at his drink, swirling whatever is left of the melted ice on the surface of it.

‘Yeah, it’s pretty great. It’s an adjustment, y’know — but Iris grew up here, and she makes everybody feel like they’re at home.’

Thoughtfully, Prompto nods. She’s definitely gone out of her way to make him feel welcome, and when he hadn’t been so busy thinking about Ardyn on his birthday they’d talked like they’d known each other for years.

Technically they  _ have —  _ but it’s a little different spending summers visiting a castle and exchanging pleasantries with the live-in stewards than it is getting to know your best friend’s girlfriend.

‘Are we okay, man?’

When he lifts his head, Noct’s finally looking up. He’s always been a little serious, but the sober look in his eyes makes Prompto’s innards flip unpleasantly.

‘Yeah,’ Prompto says. He puts a little extra effort into sounding cheerful. ‘Why’d you ask?’

‘I don’t know.’

Noct blows a breath out through his lips. He shoots a look across the bar — toward where Iris still hasn’t re-emerged from — and swallows so hard Prompto can  _ see _ his adam’s apple moving.

‘It feels like you’re not here,’ Noct says. ‘I figured maybe you were nervous around Iris, but it’s not just her. You keep checking your watch like you’ve got someplace to be, and on your birthday it was like you couldn’t get up to your room fast enough.’

There’s not really any room for Prompto deny it; when Noct points it out like that, it’s pretty hard to act like he hasn’t been a terrible guest.

Noct budges uncomfortably in his seat, angling towards him.

‘Did I do something wrong?’

‘What?’ Prompto blurts. ‘No!  _ No!  _ Dude—’

He draws in a shaky breath. The whole thing is  _ beyond _ difficult to try to explain, but even if he told Noct about Ardyn he can’t help feeling like it’s a terrible excuse for being such a shitty friend.

‘It’s not you,’ he says.  _ ‘Or _ Iris. I don’t know, man, I just.’

_ Tell him. _

But if he does that, he knows there’s no coming back.

Grabbing his beer, he slouches back into his seat and looks up toward the chintzy lamp hanging above them, some ancient-looking thing with shades like upside-down flowers.

‘I know I’ve been, like. The worst friend lately. And I’m sorry — seriously. It’s just. There’s… kinda been somebody. That I’m seeing. Sort of.’

Tentatively, he steals a glance at his friend. Noct’s eyes light up like headlamps and he reaches out a hand to slap Prompto on the arm before he can react.

‘Dude. Why didn’t you saying something sooner?! You know you just had to ask if you want to get away for a while to see them.’

Prompto tries for a casual shrug.

‘It’s… complicated. He doesn't exactly… live around here.’

It’s not a lie, at least.

Noct throws his hands up.

‘So invite him tomorrow,’ he says, as if it would only be that easy. ‘I can send a car for him — or a plane, or whatever. I know it’s short notice, but you know it’s not a problem. Just get him here.’

In spite of himself, Prompto can’t quite fight the little smile that crawls across his lips. He knows he could count on Noct to deliver in a heartbeat; Prompto wishes more than anything that he could take him up on it.

‘I’ll ask him,’ he says, and even though it’s a little lie, it makes his chest ache. ‘Just… don’t expect too much.’

‘All right.’

Noct lurches forward in his seat to grab his drink. He lifts it up a moment later, gesturing to Prompto’s glass for a toast.

‘Just let me know, man,’ Noct says, as Prompto taps his glass against his. ‘Whatever it takes, we’re getting you  _ laid.’ _

* * *

The talk with Noct should’ve made Prompto feel better, but somehow his heart only seems to weigh heavier as he says his goodnights and heads to his room for the night.

He’d promised Noct that he’d ask, with strict instructions to let him know no matter the time; the fact that it’s not only impossible, but also that Noct had seemed so genuinely  _ thrilled _ about it, makes him feel so guilty it hurts.

He knows he should have said something sooner — not on this trip, but  _ years _ ago. It's like he's been living what essentially amounts to a double life, and every time Noct has asked if he’s seeing anybody he’s just given a weary sigh and made light of the whole thing only to sneak off to Ardyn’s arms in the dead of night.

They’ve been through a lot, the two of them. Noct’s dad always put a brave face on things, even after he got sick, and it’s a trait he passed on to his son — in the heavy hours when Noct had been so busy bottling things up that he could barely function, Prompto had been the only person he’d opened up to.

From crying over breakups to freaking out over college acceptance letters; from getting shitfaced to forget the woes of the world to helping each other pick outfits for dates — whenever  _ anything _ came up, big or small, it seemed like they were always each other’s first port of call. Even with thousands of miles between them, they’d been there for each other.

At the start, Prompto had been too embarrassed to bring Ardyn up.  _ Hey dude, here’s a link to a funny cat video also I’ve been sleeping with the ghost that lives in your castle _ didn’t seem like an easy conversation to have.

With time, guilt had taken over; the longer he went without saying anything, the harder it was to spit it out.

When he lets himself into his room, Ardyn is already there. Eyes closed, hair scattered artfully around him on the pillow like a halo, he makes a pretty good impression of peaceful slumber for somebody who doesn’t  _ sleep. _

‘Did you have fun, darling?’ Ardyn asks, without opening his eyes.

Prompto’s heart twinges.

‘Yeah. I’m kinda beat.’

He moves to the bed, stripping off his outer clothes as he goes; while he undresses, Ardyn slips from the bed and — vanishing into the ether — begins pulling the covers aside to let Prompto lie down.

It’s such a sweet, heartfelt little gesture, and Ardyn does it without even thinking. They’ve known each other for years — give or take the time Prompto spends an ocean away — and it never ceases to amaze him that somebody cares enough about him to tuck him in at night, or kiss his forehead as he drifts off to sleep, or just hold him when he needs to be held.

Once he’s under the covers, Ardyn shimmers back into visibility and perches himself at the edge of the bed.

‘Get some rest,’ he says. ‘I’ll be here.’

Prompto worries at his lip. He’d wanted to talk about everything, but after tonight he’s not sure he has it in him. If he sleeps, though, he’ll wake up and Ardyn will be gone.

‘In a little while. I just… I just wanna lie here with you.’

Without question, Ardyn nods. It’s the last thing Prompto sees before he vanishes again, and the mattress dips with his weight as he climbs beneath the covers and slides in next to Prompto.

Even after all this time, it still startles Prompto to feel the coolness of Ardyn’s skin against him. It only takes a few moments to acclimatise, though, and he shifts closer, nestling up to Ardyn to rest his head on the man’s chest.

As much as Prompto doesn’t want to think about it, it isn’t long before thoughts begin to creep in, insidious. Maybe tonight was just an unexpected reminder — that someday he and Noct might not be friends any more, or he won’t be able to come visit, or Noct won’t be  _ around _ any more to open up his home to him.

‘Ardyn,’ he says, and his throat constricts before he can get anything else out.

Ardyn’s fingers stroke through his hair; he kisses the top of Prompto’s head, and Prompto can feel the cool tickle of his breath as he sighs.

‘It’s all right, my love. Everything will be all right.’

* * *

It was such exquisite agony, to wake to a room filled with sunlight, and an empty bed. Prompto might easily have spent all day curled up under the covers, clutching at the pillow where Ardyn had laid his head as if it were the man himself — but his hosts had other ideas.

Noct had sent him about a dozen texts; when he’d ignored them,  _ Iris _ had been the one who’d come knocking.

Blearily, pushing matted hair out of his face, Prompto had  _ grudgingly _ dragged himself out of bed and trudged over to the door. Iris hadn’t even waited for him to get it all the way open before barging in.

‘Noct told me you brought a dollar-store costume,’ she’d said, ‘which is frankly unacceptable.  _ We _ are gonna make you look like a million dollars.’

It’s pretty ironic, Prompto can’t help but think, as he tugs at the collar that sits just a  _ little _ too snug at his throat. Decked out in period costume, he’s a not-too-shabby replica of a noble lord, an eligible bachelor just waiting to court his paramour — he might be a few centuries out from Ardyn’s era, but it feels appropriate somehow, like he too is a man out of time.

There are just enough people crammed into the ballroom at the castle that Prompto feels like he can disappear, even if the constant clamour of strangers has his anxiety dialled up to eleven. Every now and then somebody will wander over and make nice, but he manages to scare them all off with his feeble attempts at polite chatter.

‘You know, you could try  _ not _ looking like you’d sooner take a bath in a tar pit.’

He’d been doing such a thorough job of avoiding catching anybody’s eye that he hadn’t noticed Noct — in his pretty impossible-to-miss zombie getup — until he was right beside him. It’s a little too easy to put on a fake smile and perk up, nudging Noct with his elbow.

‘Hey, that’s not fair,’ he protests. ‘There’s champagne here!’

Noct laughs, and he gets the feeling it’s just for his benefit, but he’ll take it.

‘Sorry your guy couldn’t make it,’ Noct says. ‘There’s literally a helicopter waiting to go, though. Gimme the signal.’

Prompto forces out his own laugh.

‘Pretty sure that won’t be needed. But thank you.’

Silence falls over them; at least the music Iris painstakingly curated makes it feel a little less uncomfortable.

‘Well hey,’ Noct says, slinging an arm around his shoulders. ‘It’d be a crime to be bummed out today. Go mingle! They’re bobbing for apples outside, and I’m pretty sure Iris’s haunted house is ready to go.’

Wanly, Prompto smiles.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll check it out.’

Noct opens his mouth to say more; before he can get that far, he spots somebody in the crowd and makes his apologies, leaving Prompto to mope alone.

Okay, he might not be wrong about it being a crime to be so miserable when Iris went to so much trouble to make things so special. Maybe all the merriment can’t make up for things, but Prompto can at least be miserable while  _ trying _ to get into the spirit.

He meanders out of the ball room, bringing a glass of champagne with him. The hall outside is pretty busy although a little less claustrophobic, and he can breathe easier as he wanders through it, pushing strands of cotton-wool cobwebs out of his way as he goes.

It’s still early, but the daylight does little to dampen the spooky atmosphere of the gardens. There are pumpkins everywhere, carved with eerie faces; convincing replicas of gravestones are dotted around the place, with face skeleton hands bursting out from the ground.

It’s not just a party for adults — there really  _ is _ apple-bobbing, with kids in costumes crowded around a big tub filled with water, and a little boy in a Dracula costume runs screaming from a girl done up like a witch. The garage has been turned into a haunted house, and kids and grown-ups alike are standing in line outside it, waiting for their turn to see whatever terrors await them within.

Reflexively, Prompto finds himself drifting away from the buzz of excitement. He knows the grounds so well now that he can find his way through them in the dark; his wandering leads him to the patio set into a terrace of sorts with a prime view of the nearby lake. Clutching his drink tight, he moves to the balustrade and leans over it; he might as well enjoy the view while he’s here.

The screaming Dracula runs past behind him, the witch not far behind. For a long while after, nobody else disturbs his solitude.

It’s cold in Scotland at the end of October, and he wishes he hadn’t elected to leave his long coat inside when the heat of the party had started to get to him. A shiver prickles at him, sending goosebumps dappling up his arms.

‘Allow me.’

The heavy weight of a winter cloak settle over his shoulders, lovingly placed. The shiver’s coursing up his spine now, electric, and he wants so desperately to turn around but he’s terrified of what he’ll see — or  _ won’t _ see.

‘Close your eyes,’ his lover says, his voice honey-warm in Prompto’s ears.

Prompto obeys, without question.

A hand finds his, and he has just enough time to clumsily set his champagne flute down on the wall before he’s pulled away from it, and into the solid form of Ardyn’s chest.

Ardyn presses the very tips of his fingers to Prompto’s jaw, tilting it upwards. His lips brush Prompto’s, tantalisingly soft, before he pulls away again.

‘Open your eyes, my love.’

Prompto doesn’t want to. Doesn’t want to spoil the illusion that he could have Ardyn the way he really wants to,  _ here, _ to hold him and see him and taste him and touch him like he might any other lover.

But he trusts Ardyn, and there’s kindness — and a little mischief — in the man’s voice.

Slowly, he cracks one eye open, and looks up into Ardyn’s smiling face.

He looks…  _ different. _ Younger. His hair’s cropped at jaw length and slicked back on his head, with a top hat perched on it; he’s wearing a jacket of a similar style to the one Prompto stupidly left indoors, although instead of the gaudy blue velvet it’s of a more modest charcoal shade, and it’s tailored perfectly to Ardyn’s body.

Ardyn’s body, which Prompto can  _ see, _ and which he can  _ feel, _ all at the same time.

‘Wait,’ Prompto says, and it comes out little more than a squeak, but he doesn’t care as he pats his hands down over Ardyn’s torso and back up again, touching his fingers to Ardyn’s jaw.

He sees Ardyn smile,  _ feels _ the muscles of his face move beneath his fingertips, and somehow it’s so real Prompto can’t help but feel like it’s a dream.

‘How—’

Ardyn hushes him with a kiss; his stubble rasps against Prompto’s lips like always, but there’s  _ warmth _ there, warmth in the arm that winds around his waist and holds him tight. It’s  _ heat _ soon enough, a burning heat that sweeps Prompto up as if he’s caught in a tidal wave, and next thing he knows he’s wrapping an arm around Ardyn’s neck for purchase, standing up on tiptoes to reach as his tongue crests again and again in rhythm with his lover’s.

When he breaks away, he’s breathless — and Ardyn is  _ panting, _ and Prompto’s never seen him do that because he’s a spirit and spirits don’t  _ breath,  _ and they definitely don’t wander around in the daylight and sweep their swooning paramours into an embrace for all to see.

‘I don’t understand,’ Prompto says, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘Am I dreaming?’

‘All Hallow’s Eve,’ Ardyn replies. ‘The boundaries between the worlds are frail as gossamer.’

Prompto’s heart soars with joy, pure and strong; after a beat, he pouts and thumps his fist playfully into Ardyn’s chest.

‘Why didn’t you  _ say _ something? If I’d known—’

‘If you’d known,’ Ardyn says, patiently, ‘you would have wanted to make everything perfect, and if the slightest thing had gone wrong you would have tortured yourself. I know you surprisingly well, Prompto Argentum, believe it or not.’

Prompto can’t argue with that. More than satisfied with Ardyn’s answer, he stretches up to touch a quick peck to his lips.

‘So how long do we have?’ he asks, giddy with excitement. ‘If it’s a Cinderella deal, I’m  _ not _ letting you go when the clock strikes midnight.’

Ardyn laughs, a joyous sound, and the warmth of his breath skirts Prompto’s skin.

Gently, Ardyn turns him around to face the view of the lake; the water glitters in the sunlight, and it’s a sight so beautiful — one Prompto had never thought he’d live to see with Ardyn — that he can do little more than sink back into Ardyn’s embrace.

‘A bit longer than that, my love.’

Ardyn’s voice rumbles in his chest, against Prompto’s back. His hand is warm as he twines their fingers together.

‘All Hallow’s Eve, All Saint’s Day, All Souls’ Day,’ Ardyn says. ‘For three days, I’m all yours.’

Three days — just three days together, and yet it feels like a lifetime, an eternity to spend together. Before Prompto’s worries can get the better of him he pulls Ardyn’s arms tighter around him and nestles back against his chest.

‘I love you,’ he breathes, his heart so full it could burst.

He feels Ardyn stoop behind him; feels the delicate brush of lips against his neck, at once gentle and intoxicating.

‘And I you. Endlessly.’


End file.
